


This is the Phone of Dean Winchester

by SardonicShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas and telephones, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SardonicShipper/pseuds/SardonicShipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has to leave the message for Dean's phone. Complications ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is the Phone of Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after season 8. Just some fluff I wrote on tumblr.

Dean had had a very long day. He and a very annoyed Kevin had spent sunup to sundown exorcising most of the cows in Iowa. Don’t piss off farmhands. Ever.

Somewhere on the way to Cedar Rapids he realized that he and Kevin had broken the world’s record for most time spent in the Impala without actually speaking to each other, which was no easy feat, given how good Sam had always been about keeping a pout on. 

“Um…so…how’s…your mother?” Dean finally settled on.

After a long pause, Kevin answered.

“She’s fine.”

Great.

“How’s…your…”

Dean was pretty sure he’d pulled something from the strain.

Kevin rolled his eyes, just enough to be noticed.

“Dean, it’s OK. We don’t even really know each other. We saved the world, I’m happy, you’re happy. You don’t need to know about my girlfriend, or Mom’s new haircut, or Garth’s manatee. I don’t need to know that you came out. We just…get shit done.” 

Dean was about to turn into a Walton by saying Kevin’s mother wouldn’t approve of that language when he tripped over the previous sentence.

“I…huh? When did I…who told you I…”

‘Come out.’ Dean hated that type of term. It was bullshit. To him, anyway. You were what you were. You told the one or two people you gave a fuck about. The rest was pointless. 

Kevin was nonplussed.

“You share a hotel room. You share a bed.”

Was he watching them? Did Cas teach him how to do that? Just how big a perv was Cas…

As if Cas had also taught Kevin mind-reading, he quickly spelled it out for Dean.

“A few months ago, when I had to translate the scroll you’d found. I was sitting in your room while the maids were cleaning out mine. Not really a big secret.”

Dean was flustered. He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because he’d spent so many years only knowing a few people, a list that had shrunk to barely a scrap of paper. The only one he’d even told about Cas had been Sam, and Sam’s reaction had mostly been simultaneously saying, “I’m happy for you,” and, “Who was it who spent all those years telling me I was too gay? Oh wait… _I THINK THAT WAS YOU_.” To which Dean had replied, “Dude, you gotta admit you’re pretty damn gay.” 

So, yeah, Dean wasn’t a big fan of ‘coming out.’

“OK, yeah, Cas and I - we’re…yeah. We were just sorta keeping it quiet.”

Kevin actually laughed. 

“That whole day you kept asking him to pick up stuff so you could look at his ass.”

Dean squinted and then frowned, hoping the quick movement of facial muscles might hide the blush creeping up.

“Well…he wasn’t wearing his coat that day.”

Dean heard his voice breaking. Even he knew how dumbass that had sounded.

“So…” he added, trying to get back into calmer waters, “Your girlfriend…she hot?”

_**xx** _

When Dean got back to the hotel, he took a nap until Cas showed up, as he was pretty sure he’d need his rest. Cas had gone to some type of ancient battleground that would turn humans into Play-Doh if they even dared speak the name, and, like most times Cas went to those places, he came back very bloody, very proud, and very horny.

Some hours later, Dean was lucky to be able to hobble to the shower and feel mostly satisfied that at least it was a good type of pain. Once he finished up, Cas was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the bed, pouty and naked. Dean regretted being too fuck-tired to find any positive in that image.

“You no longer have a voice mail message.”

Dean was too busy toweling his hair to know how to react.

“I dissolved your cell phone and recreated it from memory. Unfortunately, the message is gone.”

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

Cas tried for a shrug.

“I was bored.”

Dean was too tired to care. 

“Just put in your own message, Cas. It’ll be fine.”

In that moment, he had no idea of the peril he would unleash.

_**xx** _

The next day, Sam called him up, gasping and choking so hard that Dean was about to ask Cas to zap over and give him the Heimlich maneuver. 

“V..Voice mail. Listen. Lis…”

Sam hung up before the choking started again. It had sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Dean thumbed through the phone, muttering how much he hated these fucking things, groaning very loudly when he heard the message.

“Cas!”

Cas suddenly appeared next to him on the bed, carrying coffee and donuts.

Dean startled, still not used to that, somehow. He grabbed the donuts, cramming one in his mouth as he thrust the phone at Cas. 

“ _This is the phone of Dean Winchester. I gripped him tight…”_

_“_ Mmphfwerkljafwerlkfswer,” Dean muttered as he was in the midst of devouring the second donut. His favorite. It tasted so good, he couldn’t even be mad at Cas. He was fucking pathetic. “Kkwlafmmmph!”

Cas nodded, gravely, somehow understanding every word. 

“There was some type of shrill noise before I finished the recording. I did not mean to embarrass you in front of Sam. I know you are easily shamed by your brother.” 

Dean flipped Cas off as he began to donut garble a message into the phone. He stopped when he saw the hurt expression on Cas’ face.

“Dean, I would like to record your message. I won’t make another mistake. I promise.”

Something told Dean this was a bad idea, but he hated the thought of making Cas cry over a phone message.

“OK,” he gritted, not displeased when Cas leaned in to lick the powdered sugar off his lips. “Don’t screw it up.” 

_**XX** _

“Cute message, Dean,” Jody smirked. Dean could practically see the smirk through the phone. 

Fuck.

_“Dean’s list. Rule number one. Don’t say, ‘We exchange bodily fluids.’ I would never say that. Don’t say, ‘I’m Dean Winchester and I fuck an angel.’ He isn’t ‘fucking’ an ‘angel’, he is ‘fucking’ me, a seraphim. He still shows no respect. Don’t listen to Sam if he tells you to say, ‘This is Gay Gaychester.’ I had no idea Dean even went by that alias. Don’t say…I don’t understand what this word means, but it sounds painful. Wait, was this recording? I…”_

Dean was pretty sure the end was a long string of Enochian curses.

Dean sighed. An angry sigh, he’d admit, but still just a sigh. He’d survived 20 apocalypses, he wasn’t going to  have a heart attack over a cell phone. 

When he played the message for Cas, Cas grimaced, obliterating the phone with a snap of his fingers.

“I believe that device is possessed by a malicious spirit.”

Dean adjusted in his ass-killing hotel room chair, leaning over to bite Cas’ neck until he got a growl or a smile, preferably both. 

“OK…that was kind of hot, but I’d rather you not do it again. And…fuck, Cas, don’t put your hand down my pants ‘til…alright go ahead…but if you’re gonna leave the message just keep it simple, ‘k? People only call if they wanna tell me I’m a bitch or tell me Toledo’s flooding blood, sweat, and tears…oh Cas, that makes me so very happy…”

Several hours later, once Cas was sure Dean hadn’t had a coronary for real this time, he recreated the phone yet again, piece by piece. 

“Keep it simple. Keep it simple. As you would say, ‘bullshit.’” 

_“This is the phone of Dean Winchester. If you touch a hair on his head, I will kill you. Slowly.”_

“Does that suffice?” he snorted, failing to notice Dean’s dopey grin in the background. 

If Cas wasn’t sure at first, Dean made sure he knew by appreciatively tackling him, the two men ending up on the cheap hotel room carpet as they grappled, laughing and kissing, the phone left somewhere far away.

Cas had finally gotten the message.


End file.
